


Supurrheroes

by acheforhim



Series: captain_americats [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Kittens, M/M, Petstagram, The Thighs of Betrayal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 15:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20837633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acheforhim/pseuds/acheforhim
Summary: Sam and Bucky rescue two kittens and it changes everything.





	Supurrheroes

**Author's Note:**

> i sadly don't have the skills to illustrate this even though i'm dying to, but something very fortunate happened: foster_kittens on ig happened to have kittens that look exactly like i pictured these babies as i wrote the fic, so here's [kitten 1](https://www.instagram.com/p/B2CtS2aFQ9E/), [kitten 2](https://www.instagram.com/p/B2C-l3yFWLE/), [kittens nibbling](https://www.instagram.com/p/B2H4zyXlQ2F/), [kittens fighting.](https://www.instagram.com/p/B2kYRxrloF-/) (bonus: [ear wiggles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T0jj5NGxztI))
> 
> this was written for CapSeptender and so it is pure fluff. it's set post endgame but there isn't much talk of missions or plot at all in order to avoid angst (there's like a hint of but i skipped over the hurt part and went straight into comfort haha).
> 
> (this hasn't gone through a beta and it's 4am right now so i sincerely apologize for all the mistakes i probably missed)
> 
> hope you enjoy!

It all happens thanks to Barnes’ Super Soldier Super Hearing.

They’re walking home from grocery shopping when Barnes stops dead in his tracks in the middle of the sidewalk. He reaches for Sam and his fingers wrap around Sam’s wrist to still him, surprisingly gentle.

“What is it?” Sam asks carefully as Barnes tilts his head to the side, listening.

“You hear that?” Barnes asks, and Sam shakes his head. Barnes listens for a couple seconds more, then lets go of him and starts backtracking. “I think it’s coming from here.”

Sam follows him to the nearest alley between two buildings, and he can finally hear what sounds like squeaking. Barnes hurries forward as he notices a cardboard box tucked by the dumpster on one side, crouching down and leaving his grocery bag on the ground as he reaches for the box.

He makes a small noise when he opens it, but it’s nearly inaudible amidst the tiny meows that fill the air as soon as the box is open. There are two kittens inside – one white and one orange, tiny and trembling. Sam swears under his breath at whoever left them like this.

“They’re just babies,” Barnes says, voice small, and Sam has already got his phone out, looking up the nearest vet clinic.

“There’s a vet twenty minutes from here,” he says and pockets his phone again. “C’mon, we’ll leave our bags and go get them checked out.”

Barnes nods and stands up, carrying the box in one hand and his bag in the other. He keeps his eyes on the kittens as they walk, looking equally worried and endeared.

When they reach their building, he offers Sam the box. “Let me bring the bags up,” he says, and Sam gives his over. Barnes rushes up the steps and Sam sits on the bottom one, placing the box on his thighs and examining the kittens.

He doesn’t know much about cats, so he has no idea how old they are. They’re at that age where their ears still haven’t really unfolded, and their little legs are still a bit too wobbly to keep them walking in a straight line too long, though that doesn’t stop them from trying to climb the cardboard walls. The orange one is screaming its little head off at Sam, trying to get to him.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he murmurs, petting its head gently with a finger. “We’ll get you nice and warm soon.”

The kitten screams its approval.

*

At the vet’s, the doctor gets a little flustered to be meeting Captain America, which gets Sam more than a little flustered, though he tries not to show it. She quickly shakes it off, though, and focuses on the kittens that Barnes is still awkwardly holding in the box.

(She has another little moment as she realizes that she is now facing the Winter Soldier, but Barnes turns on the charm quickly—in this case that means giving her the saddest eyes Sam has seen on him and offering the box to her as if that’s his firstborn is inside it and he’d do _anything _to save them. Sam wants to roll his eyes, but he_ is _worried for the kittens, and it _does_ snap the Doc out of it, so he keeps his expression appreciative.)

After a quick examination, she lets them know that the kittens are about two weeks old and that besides being a little cold and hungry, they’re very much okay to take home. Barnes gives Sam a hopeful look, almost asking for permission, and Sam doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry at it.

“Of course we’re taking them home,” he says before Barnes can say anything, and the man grins at him, open and earnest as never.

Sam can only grin back.

He only half-listens to the vet as she gives them instructions on kitten care and when they should check back in for vaccinations and what not. He’s sure Barnes is taking it all down diligently; Sam himself is too busy falling in love with the little orange guy—turns out both kittens are boys—who keeps trying to communicate with him by screeching in his face with all his might.

“I know, sweetheart,” Sam says, petting him. The white one is a little shier but doesn’t flinch away from his touch; he just looks around with wary eyes and keeps close to his brother.

“We’re good to go,” Barnes says after a while, and Sam nods. “I can go get some things for them if you wanna bring them back home.”

“Sure thing,” Sam says.

“Unless you wanna pick some stuff out yourself?”

Sam shrugs. “I wouldn’t know what to get. Never had a cat before.”

“Neither have I,” Barnes says. “Steve and I used to feed all the strays, but that was that.”

“We better learn quick,” Sam says, picking up the box and peering down, “we got two babies to take care of now.”

Barnes laughs, a soft little sound. “That we do. We’re gonna be great dads,” he says, clapping Sam on the shoulder.

“I sure hope so,” Sam says. “I’ll catch you in a bit?” he says, and Barnes nods and waves at him as they separate.

*

Back home, Sam makes their new babies a little nest of old T-shirts in another, cleaner box they have. He wants to give them more space, but he also doesn’t want them to go running and hide somewhere he can’t reach them, so he keeps them in their cardboard prison for the moment. He spends the time waiting for Barnes looking up articles about kittens care, all the while absently petting them until they warm up and doze off.

Since his phone is out already, he snaps a few pictures of the sleeping kittens. A few quickly turn into _a lot, _they’re just so goddamn _cute. _He’s not usually one for taking pictures of anything really, and he knows that’s changed now.

He doesn’t really mind.

*

When Barnes comes back, it’s with frankly a ridiculous amount of various cat things, including one of those cat trees that they’re still too young to climb. He leaves it all to the side and sits down on the floor next to Sam, crossing his legs as he peers into the box. They spend a couple of minutes like that, silent, watching. It’s the most peaceful time the two of them have had alone together, and Sam has to stifle the instinct to rib Barnes over something stupid, the way they always do. He wonders if Barnes feels the same.

“We shouldn’t wash them, right?” Barnes asks after a while.

“Yeah, I think they’re too small,” Sam replies. “I read that it’s okay to clean them up with a wet towel?”

“Let’s do that, then.” Barnes reaches to wake up the kittens, and Sam is not surprised to have the orange one start meowing at once. “Loud little fucker, isn’t he?” Barnes murmurs as he hugs the kitten close.

“Hey now, that’s my son you’re speaking of,” Sam says, and Barnes huffs.

“Already claimed him, did you?”

“I think he claimed me.”

Barnes lets out another huff and hands the kitten to him, trying to act offended and failing by virtue of how soft just looking at the kitten makes him. Sam imagines he’s wearing a similar expression on his own face.

“Guess the quiet one is gonna be my baby,” Barnes says and reaches for the other kitten, only to have him hiss and stagger back. Barnes’ face falls for a second and he looks down at his left hand before he lets it rest on his knee and tries with the right one. The kitten still looks grumpy, but he doesn’t try to run away. He just looks like he’s silently judging them for their sins, which, honestly, fair enough.

Although they can’t give them a real bath, cleaning them is still a loud affair, they quickly learn. The quiet one finds his voice just to let them know how unhappy he is with what they’re putting him through. They try to get it done as quickly as possible, the drying even quicker. Barnes looks about as distressed as Sam feels through the whole ordeal, aching to have the kittens cry so loudly at them.

“There you go, baby, I’m sorry, no more, I promise,” Barnes murmurs to his kitten as he wraps it in a towel, holding him close and making sure he’s dry by softly rubbing the towel over his fur. Sam wants to laugh, tease him for it, but he’s never seen the man act so gentle before. It makes Sam feel warm to watch him.

Barnes prepares the kitten formula in a baby bottle, and it should be ridiculous how much they’re treating the kittens like actual human babies, but it feels like the most natural thing to do. Barnes cradles the white kitten in his hand and brings the bottle to it, and he starts nursing on it almost immediately, his little ears wiggling as he drinks his fill.

“Oh my god, are you seeing this?” Barnes whispers.

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, man,” he says. “Cutest shit I’ve ever seen.”

The same happens to his own kitten when he feeds, and Sam’s heart feels fuller than it has in ages.

He hears a strained sound and turns to Barnes to see him already looking at him, the expression on his face almost pained.

“Thank you,” he says softly, earnestly, and Sam has to swallow before he replies.

“No need to thank me, man. No way were we just gonna leave them.” He pets between the kitten’s ears with the pad of his thumb. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a pet,” he adds with a shrug. “They’ll be good for us. Just like we’ll be good for them.”

Barnes nods. His kitten is cuddled up onto his palm, close to his chest. They’re so goddamn _tiny._

“Do you know what you’re gonna name yours?” Barnes asks after a minute.

“Not yet,” Sam replies. “You got any ideas?”

“I think I’m gonna call him Baby.”

“Baby?” Sam laughs. “Really?”

Barnes shrugs. “It’s what I’m gonna call him all the time, anyway. He might as well get used to it.”

“Fair enough,” Sam says. “I don’t know what I’m gonna go with.”

“Have you considered Orangepaw?”

“Orange—what?”

“You named your drone Redwing. Because it’s red and has wings.” He reaches over to pet over the kitten’s paw with the pad of his finger. “Orangepaw.”

“Funny,” Sam says. “You called yours Baby and you wanna come at me for not being creative?”

“Yeah,” Barnes says simply.

“_Yeah_,” Sam repeats mockingly, then jumps to the side when Barnes tries to kick his shin. He sticks his tongue out at him and carries his fluffy baby away for some quality cuddle time.

*

The first week with the kittens is stressful as fuck.

They’re still so young that they spent most of the time sleeping, but they still need feeding and tummy rubs every couple of hours. Sam prays they don’t get called on a mission; they don’t really know anyone who’s less busy than the two of them and would be able to take care of the kittens, and, honestly, he doesn’t _want _to be away from them. Looking after them is busy work, yeah, but they’re so goddamn cute and sweet and fluffy. Sam has more experience with therapy dogs, but he can already feel how simply caring for these kittens is making him feel better, makes his heart feel less heavy.

It’s very obviously good for Barnes, as well – the man’s all smiles and softness all the time now. Sam knows he’s been through hell – they both have – and he knows better than most how much of a battle recovery can be. It’s good to see that this is something that’s helping both of them along.

They get along better, too – Barnes is still annoying, and they still fight over the dumbest shit, but like it or not, the kittens make both of them all kinds of mushy in each other’s company, and that makes it kind of hard to remain pissed off at the other for too long. They have many quiet moments together, and though they keep jokingly arguing about whose kitten is better like overly competitive parents, they both do their best to keep both kittens happy and healthy, working out a system of rotating who does what chores so that there’s always someone at home.

And it feels more like a home, with toys the kittens are just beginning to play with scattered all over, the cat tree they assembled looming next to the living room window just waiting to be climbed, their bowls and litter boxes prepared. It’s amazing how two tiny furry creatures can make the place not feel as hollow anymore, make them finally relax and want to utilize the space better, like it’s a real home and not just a place they’re both expecting to have to ditch soon because things will go to shit again.

Sam doesn’t know if that’s exactly what Barnes feels, too. He doesn’t ask.

He just watches as Barnes steps on the couch and raises Baby over his head, facing Sam, and silently holds him like this. As soon as he realizes what he’s doing, Sam cracks up and grabs his phone to snap a picture of them from where he’s sitting on the floor.

“When did you watch The Lion King, man?” he asks, still grinning.

“A couple weeks ago,” Barnes says, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “It was good.” He tilts his head as he looks at Sam. “You should name your kitten Samba.”

“No, I definitely shouldn’t,” Sam says, giving him an incredulous look.

Barnes just shrugs and gets off the couch, presumably to go put Baby down for a nap.

*

“Shuri says we should make an Instagram account for the kittens,” Barnes tells him over breakfast in the beginning of their second week of kitten parenthood.

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Princess Shuri? That’s who you keep texting all the time?”

“Yeah, we’re friends,” Barnes says simply. “She gives me recommendations for what to watch and read so I can understand the memes she sends me.”

Sam laughs. “Why don’t you ask me for recs?”

Barnes blinks. “You don’t send me any memes.”

“No, but I can’t roast you properly if you don’t understand the references I’m making.”

“Sorry to say it, pal, but even then you wouldn’t come up with anything that’s even half as biting as you hope it to be,” Barnes says with a shrug.

“Is that so,” Sam huffs, and Barnes just gives him a sleepy smile. Sam shakes his head. “We’ll see about that.”

Barnes rolls his eyes. “Stay on topic, Cap. Kitten Instagram.”

“You even know how to work Instagram?”

“Of course I do,” Barnes says, almost offended, and gets his phone out to show Sam his account on the app, full of photos of landscapes and selfies that show more of Barnes’s hair than his face.

“Well done, old man,” Sam says, and Barnes slides his foot over Sam’s under the table, a silent threat that he’ll press down on his toes with if Sam keeps pushing his luck. Sam rolls his eyes. “I don’t really use it.”

Barnes’ face falls a little. “You don’t have to,” he says with a shrug. “It was just a suggestion.”

“No, man, I want to,” Sam says. “Just saying, I don’t know what to do.”

“We can set up the account now,” Barnes says, then urges Sam to download the app to his phone.

They spend the rest of breakfast arguing about their username and profile photo until Sam settles on _captain_americats_ and lets Barnes choose a picture of the babies cuddled up together. Barnes types out the bio _The adventures of Baby and [redacted], _pointedly looking at Sam for not having chosen a name for his kitten yet. Sam ignores him and takes back his phone so that he can upload the picture of Barnes holding Baby up like Simba.

“What should I caption it?”

Barnes thinks about it for a second before he decides, “_He’s Baby_.”

Sam snorts but indulges him.

Barnes shares the picture to his story. Later, Shuri shares it to hers, and they have thousands of followers by the end of the day, likes and comments pouring over their one photo and quickly prompting Sam to turn off his notifications.

Most of the commenters fawn over the kitten, but there’s a fair amount of love aimed at Barnes, as well, specifically at his arms and thighs. Sam hadn’t even noticed what Barnes was wearing in the photo, used to seeing him in various states of undress, the tank top and shorts not making a real impression on him.

He can see where they’re coming from, though he wishes he could _un_see some of their written out desires about what they’d like Barnes to do to them.

“Let the people speak,” is all Barnes says when Sam shows him the comments, feeling his cheeks burn all the while.

“Let them speak _somewhere else,_” Sam replies, and Barnes, the complete bastard, just laughs.

*

The kittens grow quickly over the next couple of weeks, becoming more playful and independent. They make the switch from formula to food relatively easy and start introducing the kittens to the litter box, and Barnes has his super ears tracking their every move around the apartment, jumping every time he hears them scratch over the floor in a manner he deems highly suspicious. Sam laughs every time Barnes shoots away from his spot, but he has to admit Barnes is probably what saves them from having any accidents to clean up after.

Now used to their new home, the kittens become more affectionate, too—easily purring when they get their pets, cuddling up next to Sam and Barnes on the couch, following them around as soon as either of them gets up to do anything. Sam tries to scold them for nearly tripping him over, but all he gets for his trouble is a Baby meowing and climbing up his leg.

He doesn’t realize his own kitten sneaked into his room one evening until he comes back from his shower to see his Captain America helmet rolling on the floor, an orange paw reaching out from the right eye hole.

“Okay, Cap,” Sam says and scoops him up. The kitten starts nibbling on his fingers and doesn’t stop until Sam releases him onto the living room floor, when he darts off immediately, chasing God knows what. “You’re certainly on a mission.”

He changes their bio to _Baby & Cap, supurrheroes, _and Barnes groans over it loudly, though he doesn’t ask him to change it.

The account grows, both in content and in followers. It’s easy enough to post every day – they both take a _bunch _of pictures every time the kittens are being cute, which is all the time.

There’s a picture of Barnes on there where he sits at their dining table and Baby is making his way up his chest, meowing in outrage at not having been fed any of Barnes’ dinner. Barnes has a pleading expression on his face, almost broken at the cuteness but unwilling to encourage such bad habits in his Baby.

That’d be Sam’s favorite picture, if it’s not for the one that has Sam leaning back on the sofa, a completely baffled expression on his face as Cap is stepping all over it in order to get to Sam’s eyebrow and groom it.

Every time he looks at the picture, Sam remembers the feeling of tiny claws on his face, a little nose breathing against his brow, the sound of Barnes’ giggles as he took the picture. Sam kind of wishes they’d thought to record a video, instead, but he’s happy to just have the memory of it, too.

*

About a month in, Sam comes home from a meeting to find Barnes lying on his belly on the couch and reading. He steps closer to see Baby is sleeping on Barnes’ lower back, curled in on himself, his little paws covering his face.

“Oh my god,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Don’t move a muscle.” Sam stands at the end of the couch where Barnes’ feet are and takes out his phone. He hesitates before he snaps the pic. “Um.”

“What is it?” Barnes asks, turning his head back a little.

“You okay with having your ass be the focal point of the shot?”

Barnes laughs a little. “Yes, I’m okay with it.” His smile widens before he adds, “Want me to stick it out a little? Make the picture even better?”

“Jesus, Barnes, we don’t run that kind of account,” Sam says.

“That’s not what our followers are saying,” Barnes says.

“That’s only because you thought it’d be a bad idea to block them all,” Sam says. He’s been avoiding those comments, he definitely has. He hasn’t been reading them in secret, and he hasn’t been letting them affect the way he himself looks Barnes.

He’s definitely _not _looking at Barnes’ ass right now, appreciating the way his shorts fit over it. “Stop laughing,” Sam says before he blurts out anything else. “If you wake him up, I swear to god.”

Barnes grins silently, still half-turned his way, and Sam finally takes a picture. It’s… cute. Barnes looks happy, and Baby is completely adorable, though people won’t be able to take that good a look at him from this far away.

“I’m gonna take a close up now,” he says and comes closer to the couch.

“Of my ass?”

“Of the cat, Barnes,” Sam says, and he’s close enough now that Baby stirs at his voice. The kitten blinks up at him and lets out a tiny meow. “I’m sorry, Baby,” he says gently.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Barnes replies, though he’s back to reading his book already.

Sam rolls his eyes and scratches Baby’s soft head. He starts purring immediately and Sam takes a quick picture of him, small and sleepy and completely precious.

“Tag me on the left cheek,” Barnes requests casually, and Sam groans but does just that.

It becomes their most liked post.

“Of course it is,” Barnes says smugly when Sam tells him about it. “With a focal point like that…” he adds, shaking his ass a little as he does the dishes.

Sam laughs. “You keep telling yourself that’s the reason,” he says.

“Aw, you’re so jealous, Sammy. Just because I have hundreds of people complimenting my ass and you don’t.”

“Call me Sammy again and you’ll be getting a kick in yours,” Sam warns and Barnes turns to grin and give him a little salute, dish soap running down his hand. “You can keep all your compliments. If I show off what I got, the internet’s gonna explode. Better to spare your ego and all the people following us.”

“Whatever you say, Captain. It’s not that kind of account, anyway.”

“Yeah. Exactly,” Sam says and takes a sip of his coffee, effectively ending the conversation.

*

Sam nearly chokes on his coffee when the next morning Barnes walks into the kitchen in shorts that might as well be briefs. He tries to drag his eyes up and away from _those fucking thighs—_an alarming amount of comments about people wanting between them flash in his mind_—_but of course Barnes notices him looking before he can play it off.

“Good morning, Captain,” he says, voice a delicious rasp that does nothing to keep Sam’s thoughts from straying to indecent places.

“Morning,” Sam says. Barnes raises an eyebrow as if to say, _Anything I can help you with? _Sam clears his throat. “You, uh. Planning a photo shoot for today?” he asks with a small nod towards Barnes’ attire. His thighs _are_ so thick, Christ, Sam takes another sip of his coffee to stop himself from saying something embarrassing about them.

“Nah,” Barnes says and turns a chair towards Sam before he sits down. “This is all for you, baby,” he says, spreading his hands over his thighs.

_WHAT_, Sam thinks eloquently.

“What?” he says out loud, a bit more chill than in his thoughts, though not by far.

Barnes chuckles and the sound makes Sam shiver. “Come here,” he says calmly.

Sam blinks at him, heart pounding.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Barnes says again, fingers drumming over his thighs to make it clear exactly what he means. Sam swallows and leaves his mug on the counter before he moves closer. “There you go,” Barnes murmurs as Sam sits astride him. “There you go, baby,” he says again, voice quiet and low, hand coming up cup Sam’s cheek.

“Buck,” Sam says, and Barnes chuckles again.

“I’m Buck now, am I,” he murmurs against Sam’s cheek before he kisses it. “Sounds so sweet on your lips. Say it again, baby?”

“Bucky,” Sam says, breathless, and Bucky groans as he kisses him.

“So _sweet,_” he says in-between kisses. “So goddamn gorgeous, come here—” and he’s pulling Sam closer until he’s damn near sat on his dick, and it’s so hard, God, they’re both so fucking hard. “Sam,” Bucky moans, and Sam—

Sam wakes up.

He wakes up with his dick throbbing in his boxers and his hand is wrapping around it before he can even think about it. He gets himself off quickly, eyes shut as he replays the last few seconds of his dreams, sitting on Bucky’s thick thighs, feeling how hard he was for Sam, feeling his hands on him, his lips—

Sam comes with a stifled groan, panting like he just ran a marathon. It takes him a couple of minutes to recover, to have his brain wake up and realize what just happened.

He opens his eyes and stares at the darkness of the ceiling, a single thought forming in his head with perfect clarity.

_Fucking shit._

*

When the actual morning comes, Barnes is blessedly dressed in pajamas that cover his whole legs. It makes Sam relax a little, knowing he won’t embarrass himself by staring at Barnes’ thighs for real. Not that they’re any less impressive clothed—but Sam’s _not looking._

“You’re tense,” Barnes notes, because of course he does.

“Yeah, guess I am,” Sam says.

Barnes gives him a long look, but then miraculously decides not to pry. He turns away, sparing Sam from his scrutiny, but a moment later Sam hears him say, “Oh, baby.”

“Yeah?” Sam says, heart pounding, then follows Barnes’ gaze.

He’s looking at the food bowls where Baby is in the process of making a mess. _Baby. _Capital B. _He was talking to the cat, Wilson, he doesn’t call you ‘baby’ in real life._

“Are you sure you’re okay, pal?” Barnes asks him, because Sam is fucking sweating.

“I’m gonna go for a run,” Sam says, and does just that, doing laps until he can’t feel anything but tired.

Barnes doesn’t ask him about it again, and Sam is able to calm the fuck down and mostly ignore all thoughts of his dream.

He hasn’t gotten laid in a while and his mind is just latching onto whoever’s closest, he reasons. There’s no other reason for him to feel warmer when he’s in Barnes’ company, to squirm every time Barnes is being cute with the kittens, to feel blood rush to his cheeks when he catches Barnes looking at him fondly.

None at all.

*

A week later, when Barnes is away on an assignment, Sam takes both kittens in his room so that they don’t get lonely during the night. When they tire themselves out playing, he lets them curl up on a pillow on the other side of his bed, making sure his door is cracked open so that they can leave any time they want.

When he wakes up, he’s got Baby sleeping at the crook of his neck and Cap is on his bare chest. Very carefully, he reaches for his phone on the nightstand and snaps a picture, captioning it _sleepy babies._

A few hours later, he gets a text from Barnes saying he’s on his way back, and moments after that he gets a notification for a new comment on Instagram.

It’s Barnes, who’s just posted the eyes emoji.

The mission can’t have gone bad, if he’s in a good enough mood to post weird comments.

_See something you like?_ Sam types out. It’s stupid and obvious and he hovers over the _post _button for a whole minute before he actually presses it. Almost immediately, Barnes replies with two blushing emoji and a kissy face one.

Whatever that means.

If it’s possible, the thirst comments aimed at himself make him even more flustered than those about Barnes, and Barnes takes great pleasure in reading them out loud to him, though he has no idea that it’s the fact that _he_’s reading them that makes Sam squirm this much.

*

A few days later, Barnes posts a full length mirror pic, immediately post shower. He’s got a little smile on his face, his hair is messily put up, his body still glistening with drops of water. His left hand is clutching the dark blue towel at his waist, and there’s a blurry white spot near his knee where Baby is climbing it.

_Do I look like a damn tree to you, _the caption says.

Naturally, there’s a couple dozen comments telling him he deserves to be climbed like one, as Barnes probably knew there would be.

“Goddamn show off,” Sam mutters, but he double taps the picture anyway. His thumbs hover over the keyboard before he can decide what to comment. He decides to take a page off Barnes’ book and just post the heart eyes one.

Barnes replies with three kissy faces, which does _not _make Sam feel warm. It certainly doesn’t make him grin, giddy like he hasn’t felt in a while. 

*

They’re doing fine—great, actually—and then a mission goes… not exactly sideways.

They’re okay, but Sam’s wings do malfunction when he gets hit. It only takes him a few seconds to fix them, but it’s long enough to have him plummet for a few terrifying seconds.

It’s long enough to hear Barnes scream his name in a tone Sam never wants to hear again.

They make it out alright. Barnes’ eyes on him are heavy on their way back home and during the debriefing, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s clearly shaken, but when they get home, the only thing he says is, “You should take the shower first,” before he retreats to his own room.

Sam wants to check on him, make sure he’s coping alright, but shit – he’s exhausted. He does as Barnes said and goes to shower and wash away the sweat and the stress of the day, figuring Barnes needs a minute alone before they can talk about it.

When he emerges from his room in a soft T-shirt and pajama bottoms, he does not expect Barnes to come up to him as soon as Sam’s door clicks shut.

“Hey,” Barnes says.

“Hey, man,” Sam says, and that’s far as he gets before there’s a hand in his own and he’s being led to their living room. “You okay?” he asks, and Barnes turns to give him an incredulous look, but he doesn’t say anything. He just sits Sam down on one end of the couch and drapes something soft around his shoulders. “This new?” Sam asks as he runs a hand over the blanket. It _so _soft, he wants to snuggle up into it, feel it all over the bare skin of his arms, and so—he does.

“Got it last week,” Barnes says, and Sam is smiles at him. It’s not often that Barnes gets things just for the sake of it – it’s always things either they or the kittens need. “Don’t get any grease over it.”

“Grease?” Sam asks, but Barnes has already disappeared in the kitchen. He comes back soon with two plates piled with pizza slices, and he hands one to Sam. He’s ordered from their favorite place. “I don’t know if I can eat all of that.”

Barnes shrugs. “You don’t have to,” he says. He sits down next to Sam, and Sam takes a moment to look at him. He’s still tense, but not in the way he usually is after mission. He’s not angry or anxious. He just seems… Worried. About Sam. And he’s taking care of him.

Something flutters in Sam’s stomach.

Barnes notices him looking.

“Okay?” he asks, voice quiet. Sam knows he’s asking if he’s okay, but also, is _this _okay? He’s never tried to—take care of Sam before, not outside of missions.

It feels… good.

“Yeah, man,” Sam says, voice quiet.

Barnes nods, and turns on the TV, finds some cooking show they can pretend to watch as their minds wander. And does Sam’s mind wander – to the free fall, the fear, the absolute terror in Barnes’ voice.

He doesn’t look at Barnes as he shuffles a bit closer until their knees are barely touching. _I’m here._

Barnes doesn’t look at him as he shifts his leg so that they’re pressed closer together. _I got you._

They don’t talk about it.

They just eat and watch, and when Sam makes to get up and bring his plate to the kitchen, Barnes waves him off and does it for him. Sam uses the moment to lie down for a bit, groaning as he stretches out on the couch.

“Wanna go to bed?” Barnes asks when he comes back.

“Still too wired,” Sam says. “We can watch something else, if you want,” he continues, folding his legs to make space for Barnes to sit again.

Barnes does sit, but he also gently pulls on Sam’s ankles so that his feet end up on Barnes’ lap. He looks Sam to gauge his reaction. _Is this okay? _his eyes ask again.

Sam gives him a little smile and turns his attention back to the TV. _Okay _is one way to put it. _Probably the most intimate thing I’ve done with someone in months _is another. He pretends it’s not a big deal when Barnes’ hand settles on his ankle, the touch grounding him. He pretends his heart doesn’t skip a beat when Barnes starts absently rubbing his thumb over the skin between Sam’s sock and his pajamas, metal warming against his skin.

It’s all completely casual and fine.

*

That’s what Sam keeps telling himself, and then he keeps catching himself looking for excuses to touch Barnes.

He catches Barnes doing the same – squeezing his shoulder as he says good morning, straightening Sam’s clothes before he goes out, picking cat hairs off him when they’re just chilling at home.

He suggests that they go to the gym to spar more often, now that they can leave the kittens alone for a while, and that’s great, but also a nightmare. Every time either of them gets pinned to the floor Sam’s heart goes wild with more than adrenaline, and he’s trying not to freak out over it, because Bucky, he—he has to feel the same. Sam sees it in his eyes, or at least he thinks he does, but then neither of them talks about it and it feels like he’s losing his damn mind.

He’s sitting on the couch one evening with Cap napping in his lap when Bucky sits next to him.

They’re silent for a few long minutes, and Sam feels the tension in him building more and more. He’s about to speak up, ask what the hell they’re doing already, and then Bucky lets out a little sigh and his head drops to rest against Sam’s shoulder.

“This okay?” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Sam replies, just as quiet. His mouth feels dry. “Feeling cuddly?”

Bucky hums. “The babies might have made a point, taking all those naps together.”

Sam chuckles. “You telling me you wanna sleep with me, Barnes?” he says before he can stop himself.

Bucky tilts his head up to meet his gaze. “Have been for a while, but thanks for noticing.”

Sam blinks at him. They’ve never been this close, and he loses a minute just looking into Bucky’s eyes. It takes him long enough to reply that Bucky ducks his gaze, looking embarrassed.

Sam lifts Bucky’s chin gently before he can retreat completely. and they spend another long moment ust looking at each other.

“I did notice,” he says, because he can’t come up with anything else.

“Good on you for pretending you didn’t so you wouldn’t have to let me down.”

“You call my freaking out about it pretending I didn’t notice?” Sam huffs. Bucky’s eyes go half closed as he smiles. He looks just like the kittens do when Sam scratches their chins. “You’re really fucking cute, you know that?” he murmurs before he can stop himself.

Bucky grins. “I do know,” he says. He’s clearly going for smug, but Sam can see his genuine pleasure at being complimented. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Flatterer,” Sam says, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, Sam,” he says. “You don’t need me to tell you that.”

“Still nice to hear it.”

“If that’s the case…” Bucky closes his eyes and shifts closer, talking almost into Sam’s neck. “I’ll make sure to let you know often.”

Sam leans his cheek on Bucky’s head. His hair is soft from his shower and the citrusy smell of his shampoo fills the air around them. It feels good to sit like this, quiet and warm and comfortable.

“That’s about the last thing I expected to happen,” he says, and Bucky laughs.

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Thought we might end up hatefucking, but never this.”

“Hatefucking?” Sam asks. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky says in a tone that makes a smirk pull at Sam’s lips.

“You imagine it often, Barnes?”

“Might have,” Bucky says easily. “Got kind of hard to hate you after a while, though. It’s all your fault, you know,” he tells Cap as he pets him gently. The kitten doesn’t even stir. “You and your brother. Evil masterminds.”

“Supurrvillains,” Sam says, and Bucky sighs.

“Let’s go to bed,” he says, and they do.

The picture of them in bed, Sam’s head pillowed on Bucky’s shoulder and Baby sprawled on the pillow next to them, becomes their most liked and commented on post by _far._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/mordrecl) ♥


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